


Insomnia

by MoonlightShines (Thatkillervibe)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Bagels, Canon Compliant, Central City, F/M, Gen, Homelessness, Midnight walks, OR IS IT, Panic Attacks, Strangers, Unrequited Love, idk - Freeform, season 5, you be the judge - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18652000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatkillervibe/pseuds/MoonlightShines
Summary: The clock in Caitlin's bedroom was ticking. It was ticking, and it was preventing Caitlin from sleep. It was easiest to blame her insomnia on that incessant noise, at least. Far easier than the fear creeping up her throat. Or how her stomach was rolling with guilt. How her chest was tight and every time she closed her eyes her mind flashed to dark forests and dank caves. Tall blue stiletto boots that pinched her toes and limp, white hair.She thought she was done with that.





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Canon compliant angst. Whoops.

The clock in her bedroom was ticking. It was ticking, and it was preventing Caitlin from sleep. It was easiest to blame her insomnia on that incessant noise, at least. Far easier than the fear creeping up her throat. Or how her stomach was rolling with guilt. How her chest was tight and every time she closed her eyes her mind flashed to dark forests and dank caves. Tall blue stiletto boots that pinched her toes and limp, white hair.

 

She thought she was done with that.

 

 _I am_ , she told herself. _You are._ The back of her mind was eerily quiet. No echo making excuses or to scoff at her anxiety.

 

Which meant. This was all Caitlin. This was all her and that was exhausting because she thought all this mess was _over._ Neatly compartmentalized in her mental attic, shoved closed with a lock and key, beside the ones labeled Zoom. Firestorm. Martin Stein. Mom. And the most recent one she had slammed closed once again, Dad.

 

She swung her legs over the side of her bed, and wiped at her sweaty brow, glaring at the floor. Her sheets pooled off the bed in a heap, and she gathered the bright purple fabric back into her arms to plop onto the middle of the bed in a tangle. Her clock was still ticking and now Caitlin had half the urge to throw her hand out and freeze it, but she’d regret that in the morning.

 

She shuffled into her bathroom, and absently brushed her hair in the shadows, unsure exactly what she was doing, only that it was something to keep her from crawling back into bed only to fail at sleep. With a deep breath and a thrown on coat, she left her apartment to take a walk.

 

When Caitlin was... not Caitlin, she used to go walking around for hours like a homeless vagabond.

 

She remembered because she’d gain consciousness in random spots. Slumped against dumpsters or startled by alleyways, confused and alarmed before she lost control once again. This time was not like those.

Caitlin let the lamp posts guide her, walking down the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets and headphones over her ears.

The wind rustled the trees and a stray cat crossed the street. It was cute. A calico with bright green eyes she was automatically drawn to, and when Caitlin tried to call for it, it jumped three feet in the air and dived into the bushes with a yowl.

 

Nighttime wasn’t all that scary.

 

For one thing, Central City was awfully awake for two AM.

 

Not lively, or loud, she noticed, crossing an empty street at an intersection with only two cars. Not like New York or Vegas. Simply that it wasn’t dead. There were things to do if you looked for them, and Caitlin quickly found herself walking into a twenty-four hour bagel shop with an oven stove. The bell rang overhead as she stepped in, pulling out her earphones and smiling tight-lipped at the man watching her at one of the tables.

 

“What can I get you?”

 

She was slow to respond, and when she did, her voice was rough like rust, which gave her a rising flush on her cheeks. It’s been hours.

  
The entire store smelled very good and what was originally supposed to be a two dollar purchase resulted in Caitlin carrying a brown paper bag with a dozen soft hot poppy seeds.

 

She took her bundle to a city bench, and let the steam seep into the bag, warming her hands. The crust was crispy in a way that meant it was the only thing holding the dough together, and while Caitlin was more one for a plate, slicing knife and butter, this felt more authentic. She ripped the moist bread in half, popping a quarter into her mouth with the crumbs and seeds dusting over her lap.

 

“Hey.”

 

Caitlin looked up to find a woman in ratty clothes and a dirty beanie approaching.

 

“That’s my bench.”

 

Caitlin hopped up immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

 

“‘S’okay. Just, make room?”

 

A few years ago Caitlin would’ve simply got up and left entirely, not sparing a look back.

 

But now she hesitated, really not feeling up for making the lonely trek home. So she sat back down primly, and forced her shoulders to relax.

  
The lady drew her legs up, curling up on the other end, and removed her beanie to reveal really long gorgeous red hair. It took a moment to realize the woman was a lot younger than she first appeared.

 

Caitlin looked down into her full bag of bagels. “Are you hungry?”

 

The woman bore her eyes into hers, like this were a test.

  
Caitlin set the bag down, pushing it across the wooden seat for the woman to grab, letting her choose to take if she wished. She did eventually, reaching into the bag with a mumbled thanks.

 

Only then did she notice the woman’s injury.

 

The lady narrowed her eyes, and Caitlin had to reel back, careful with her scrutiny. “Your wrist,” she said softly. “It’s swollen.”

 

The woman looked skittish. Caitlin walked back across the street towards the bagel store, and sweet talked the baker into giving her a plastic bag, cloth and some ice.

 

She returned, kneeling on the grass of the tiny green corner park in front of the stranger, and picked up her limp arm after raising her gaze, silently asking for permission. She lifted up the stained sleeve and poured the ice into the plastic bag, then wrapped it in the cloth, draping it over the purple sprain. The woman flinched as she handled it, and Caitlin did her best to gently check for any breaks. There were none, so she sat back on her heels, satisfied with her makeshift work.

 

“You should do your best to elevate your arm.” She guided it on top of the bench against the back, laying it outright so the woman’s fingers were splayed up facing the sky. “I’m sorry I don’t have any painkillers on me. I asked at Real Bagel.”

 

The woman stared stunned at her niceness. “You didn’t have to do that.”

 

Caitlin shrugged. She wiped the lingering wetness of the ice on her coat, and stood back up. She felt a chasm in her heart--a terrible sudden pang. Something deep and soulful yearning for comfort like she just gave.

 

Instead of wishing her best, Caitlin stayed, and the woman opened up to her.

 

“What’s a nurse doing alone in the middle of the night?” Hanasa--her name-- finally asked twenty minutes later, after two more bagels eaten.

 

Caitlin didn’t correct her,  pulling her coat to her chest, hiding her hands in her pockets. “Insomnia.”

 

“And you came out here? Instead of sleeping pills or quiet music?”

 

“I just wanted to go somewhere else.”

 

“Where?” Hanasa asked.

 

Caitlin looked away at the apartment complex down the street. She hadn’t realized she was going there but now that it was pointed out, Caitlin kind of wanted to cry.

 

Because when she left her house on autopilot, shoving her keys into her fist, and locking her door behind her, she had thought she was following the lamp posts, thought she was being aimless, but the truth was, that wasn’t it at all. Caitlin never went somewhere without a destination. Sure, she ran all the time, from everything as little as from the Cortex to her Med Bay to escape calamities to almost getting on a plane to leave her friends and never come back when things got ugly with Amunet.

 

“Somewhere where I feel safe.”

 

It hit her like a ton of bricks. That longing she’d been fighting off, the sickness she felt. How it would all disappear with a snap of a finger if she simply let herself go where she wanted. If she allowed herself what she needed. She should. 

 

“I’m sorry--I have to go. It was nice meeting you, really.”

 

Caitlin scurried off, almost breaking into a sprint down the street, leaving her bagels and the soft glow of 24-hour ‘We’re Open’ storefronts behind.

 

The doorman at the front let her in, accustomed to her face and weird hours. Nights checking concussions and popping in and out with Team Flash has left the security here resigned with the fact a group of 30-something weirdos couldn’t be stopped nor explained and crashed here often.

 

She had the keys anyways, was given them years ago after a particularly bad incident, and Caitlin was still remembering it when she walked quietly down the familiar carpeted hall and rang the door buzzer.

 

She would feel bad if not for that he had always said she could ring him when she needed him. And she did, right now. She really--

 

Caitlin’s head felt hot and her heart fell to the floor.

 

\--A beautiful woman answered the door, wrapping her arms around the long T-shirt which almost surpassed her shorts. Her hair was mussed. She wore a frown which was reasonable because Caitlin just woke her up and who does that but first responders or murderers?

 

Caitlin took a step back. _“Kamilla.”_

 

Kamilla’s eyes widened with apprehensive fear. “-Yes?”

 

Her feet were frozen to the carpet, but she could feel her own roaring pulse in her _ears._ She didn’t want to be here anymore. 

 

“--I--”

 

Kamilla didn’t know Caitlin. They’ve had this discussion before even, about Cisco’s attempt to keep his two lives separate and--

 

Cisco’s floor creaked as he made his way down the hall only in a pair of boxers. He rubbed the sleep out of his eye, but woke up pretty quickly at the scene.

 

“Hey,” he said tentatively. His hand went to Kamilla’s back, nudging her back inside.

 

Her gaze lingered on the way his hand touched his girlfriend. The implication was clear, and Caitlin has never felt so stupid.

  
“Cait,” he whispered, holding her steady. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, and now the tears were streaming down her face in earnest, because his hands were warm and gentle, and she just wanted his presence and his brown eyes and his low, caring, soothing voice, and the way his thumb would rub over her shoulder like he always did when calming her down but she didn’t have that right. She couldn’t ask for that, she couldn’t do this. She ripped herself away from him, heartbroken at her own orchestrated tragedy. “I don’t know what I was thinking--”

 

She turned and nearly collided into the wall in her haste, but he followed after her, grabbing her arm which was cold as ice and pulling her to him, as she panicked. Her cheek pressed against the bare skin of his neck and this wasn’t helping this was the opposite of what she had wanted because this was even better than what she was imagining but insurmountably worse in a crawling growing horror kind of way.

 

“What’s going on?” Kamilla asked, coming back out into the hallway with more of her legs covered.

 

Cisco looked over his shoulder. “This is my best friend Caitlin. I think she’s having a panic attack, I’m sorry.”

 

“Is there anything I could do to help?”

 

“Yeah, do you think you could go fetch the thermal blanket I have in the closet next to the bathroom and put it on the couch?”

 

“Sure.” Kamilla’s airy voice was like a chirping bird in the dead of night.

 

Caitlin wanted to die.

 

“Shhh,” Cisco hushed into her hair, holding her tighter, and she shattered to pieces because he would never _understand._

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's like i don't know how to do fluff anymore -- help --


End file.
